Petrichor

Chapter 1 - Adalynn

"I'm Only Joking" by KONGOS

Escape is a skill I've been forced to master. It isn't something I've taken kindly to, but I haven't had much of a choice. You were either hungry or fed and a bit scraped up. I chose the latter. And that leads me to now. As my feet carelessly take me through streets I've memorized, I try not to falter as the stress of the new predators close in. The capes don't have the wretched horse and the dumbass horn, but wings. Shit. You know, you usually give your new stolen goods a nice test drive, but this couldn't be too different from my tinkered ones. Right? I turn back to see how many, as I count only three, I'm a bit relieved. I can shake 'em. 

In an attempt to speed myself up, I push down on the trigger of the gear, launching myself up above the roofs-the people. Now, I've evened the playing field. Time to race, bitches. My heart beats loud enough for all to hear, my opponents are truly intimidating, but that's what makes it thrilling. I fly as if I've been given wings, finally free. The wind whirs against my ears, my eyes squint. I swing left and it throws one of them. Two. I've got two left. I can do this.

"Yep, I've got this." I say aloud.

"You sure about that?" My eyes widen as my anxiety settles low in my stomach. I guess this is mystery number four. There's four.

"Holy shi-" My words get caught in the air as I'm shoved, unbalancing me. The ground came quicker than I thought to recognize. My hooded cloak wraps itself around me and in the dirt and water that's been caked onto these streets for many unkind years as I tumble. My head bouncing against concrete left me less than fortunate. My eyes rolled attempting to gain some form of stability, I slowly stood. My hand instinctively went to the belted on gear, this isn't over yet.

"It's broken? Are you kidding?" Well, plan number two. Run. Running in this state is always a fun trip, especially since I can't tell where I am. I continue running down dark and twisted alleys, but footsteps halt my path. Wrong way. I begin backing up to make a run for it before hands grab my shoulders and stops that plan. I swallow down nerves, but a taste of fear lingers. My hand travels to my waist and rests on my dagger. Plan three?

"Your gear looks old," the Scout mutters, her breath grazing my neck. My hood is off, great. She hasn't seen my face so, just keep forward. "You don't want to use that, you'd lose." She warns, eyes traveling down to where my hand rests. My breath catches in my throat. She has to know I don't listen when people beg. I say plan three is still a-go.

"Would you like it if I hand it to you?"

"Preferably, yeah." She cannot be that stupid. I hear the footsteps rapidly approaching, the remaining scouts coming to join us. I would be facing them and that would be three scouts that would've seen me. Three or one? I think my choice is obvious.

"Fine, have it your way." I say as I unsheathe the dagger, rapidly making a move for her neck. She must've noticed her error, because her eyes went wide. Not entirely shocked, more amused. My dagger landed against her neck, pressing against her skin firmly, but not enough to break the barrier. She nearly smirked, waiting a few seconds as she trailed her eyes over my face in the darkness. The echo of the scouts' arrival announces our audience.

"Someone should teach you manners," she rasped, roughly grabbing my elbow and forcing my arm down. She used her other hand to remove the dagger from my hand, pressing it against my abdomen. "I don't plan on killing you," she swiftly grabs my neck, pulling me up to view, "calm down."

Her green eyes may have provided a glimpse into what a forest looks like, but they pierced me, inciting only fear. I don't let the fear communicate through my eyes as I set them cold. "Then let me go."

She sets her mouth in a thin line, shaking her head. "Not without a price." Her eyes dart behind her shoulder, offering a firm nod of reassurance to the other Scouts. They return the gesture, waiting patiently. "I'll strike you a deal," she continued, lips tugging to form a small smile. "You do something for us, we'll return the favor. But I need you to surrender. Only for now." She shifts my shoulders, turning me around to face the other Scouts.

Worrying they'll see my face, I attempt to nudge her off and wriggle away from her grasp. She only grips onto my shoulders tighter, forcing me to turn. I keep my head low. One approaches, I only see the shine of his boots.

"Raise your head."

"No." My reply is quicker than I could think.

"I wasn't asking." His demanding tone shattered the awkward atmosphere. "Sterling," he called.

The woman grasping my shoulders tensed slightly, before responding with a small "Huh?" The man scoffed lightly, and it seemed she finally understood, because she made a quiet noise of acknowledgement. Within seconds I felt the blunt force of a boot on my back, knocking me straight to the concrete below. The sudden movement caused phosphenes to cloud my vision, and the already raging headache I had worsened. The slight dizziness I had multiplied by the thousands, and I struggled to keep my head from falling straight to the ground. My palms caught my fall, hands sliding against the hard surface. I let out a grunt of half annoyance, half discomfort, trying my best to ignore the pain. I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing it down and blinking rapidly to keep myself conscious.

    There were a few seconds of complete silence before I was brought back to reality. The woman behind me roughly grabbed a hold of my hair, forcing me to look up. She lowered her face to my level, looking forward and up at the man. "He won't ask again," she warned, her breath making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. She tightened her grip and my scalp burned, but only for a minute. She loosened her hold, but didn't step away. Her arm brushed against mine, and to the touch, I attempted to scoot away, but she didn't falter.

    "Well, make this quick, because frankly, I don't like being in this filthy place." The man shifted his weight, crossing his arms. As much as I still tried to shelter myself, I was nearly paralyzed by the woman and my pounding head. It was hard enough to pay attention to him, and the blondie that stepped forward.

    "We have a shortage of Scouts. It's not a popular choice. No one will think twice when you're gone from this place. You don't matter here. And you won't matter when you're in the cage of the Military Police either. But join us, and maybe you'll find something that makes you memorable." His voice was layered in thick disguises of candor and encouragement, but there was warmth behind it. He was genuine.

    Through the daze I could only make out some of his bullshit, but I got the gist.

"Who? Who would care?" I asked, somewhere pleading for an actual answer.

    The blonde man opened his mouth, but a woman stepped forward. "Us," she offered, nearly excitedly, lips curling to form a smile as she reached to adjust her glasses.

    "Choose." The woman beside me rasped, glancing at me, face still lowered to my level. She was merely inches away, and that unnerved me.

    The pressure building at the base of my head was beginning to overflow. Now, I could just barely make out the shoes of the people before me. But my vision began to cloud, and my body seemed to weigh triple the norm. I curled my fingers, my knuckles scraping against the wet, dirty concrete, tearing the skin. I blinked, fighting for anyway to keep myself up. But my body had other plans as my wrists gave out and my body began to collapse.

    "Fuck that," I managed to spit out. The woman holding my hair appeared shocked as the weight of gravity took over my body, and she stuck out an arm to catch me, letting go of my hair.